Warehouse on the Canal
by TheBigChillQueen
Summary: Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl.  It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.
1. Chapter 1

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here  
**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

"C'mon, _Jadell_," Brittany Robinson scoffed as she tossed her long, blonde hair behind her skinny shoulder and rolled her eyes, which were caked with layers of pink eyeshadow and mascara. "I, like, don't have all night!" She was talking to a younger girl who trudged in through the back door of an old, dark warehouse after her. She was holding herself, as if she was cold, despite the fact that it was a warm, spring night. But the darkness and eeriness of the nearly century old warehouse made it seem like the temperature had mysteriously dropped a few degrees.

Jadell Lang glared at the preppy older girl with her narrow, dark eyes. It had only been two weeks since her father had moved her and her older brother, Ethan, to the tiny, quaint town of Canal Fulton, Ohio. She already hated it. The place was too _quiet_ and _boring_. And the school she went to was full of nothing but snobby tramps in skirts and shorts that were way too small and spineless jocks who only had one thing on their mind; to get in the pants of those tramps. And Brittany happened to be one of those brainless tramps. The reason why Jadell was even with someone like her was because during lunch, Brittany and her Paris Hilton-wannabe posse had dared her in front of the entire cafeteria to enter the most creepiest and mysterious buildings of the tiny town, which happened to be the one that they were in now. And because Jadell didn't want to prove her self as a 'lesser being' to the air-headed girls, she accepted the dare. Little did she know was that she was going to soon regret this decision.

"What's the matter, Brittany? Afraid that you won't make it back in time to screw the star quarterback, Justin Grey? " Jadell smirked as she looked up at the taller girl. What she lacked in brainpower, she made up in height. Being six feet tall, Brittany was the star of the school's volleyball team and had already won five competitions. Brittany was also the head cheerleader. But Jadell didn't care. She hated sports. Her school had made team spirit a **HUGE** deal and she swore that she was gonna kill herself if she heard the annoying victory theme song one more time.

Brittany glared knives at Jadell with her cold, blue eyes.

"You think you're funny, Miss Goth? Just remember that if you back out of this deal, I will make sure that the entire school knows," she held up her sparkly pink phone that Jadell wanted to throw up at the site of, "one way, or another."

"Hey, I'm here," Jadell shrugged, forgetting about the cold she felt earlier upon entering the warehouse. "But if you wanna leave, the door's right there." Jadell stood aside, holding out her arm to indicate the exit.

"Ha! Like, as if! C'mon, let's go down to the basement!"

Brittany laughed as she ran off, heading for the stairs that led to the floor below. Jadell sighed and rolled her eyes. She was a goth, yes, and she was all for creepy and spooky, but this warehouse just gave her a bad vibe. She felt as if she and Brittany shouldn't be there. Well, they shouldn't be there anyways since they had basically snuck into a closed tourist attraction through the back way after Brittany had used her bobby pin to pick the lock. It wouldn't take long for the local police to get to them if they had set off any silent alarms. But everything seemed okay. For now.

Jadell followed the sound of Brittany's lame ghost impressions down to the basement, where she was waiting, grinning like a hyena, which seemed to suit her just fine. Brittany moved over to a dusty old mirror.

"They say that, like, you can see your dead loved ones through this thing," she informed Jadell.

"Riiiight," Jadell yawned, unimpressed, "to me it looks like a good mirror to apply make-up with. You should take it back home with you."

"Like, no way! This thing is ugly! Besides, I already have, like, three of them already."

"Of course."

As Brittany walked back to the stairs, Jadell gave the mirror one last look. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she saw a fuzzy shape form in the glassy surface of the mirror. She gasped loudly as the shape morphed into a human form that she immediately recognized as it cleared.

She screamed.

Brittany rushed over to her, completely startled by her sudden outcry.

"Whatwhatwhat?" she exclaimed, grabbing Jadell roughly by the shoulders, turning her to face her. "Jadell! What is it? What did you see?"

By this time, Jadell was crying. She shoved past Brittany and ran for the stairs. She only made up two steps before Brittany grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"Calm down, you big baby! Tell me what you saw!" Brittany ordered.

"I-I can't!" Jadell sobbed, collapsing onto the steps.

"What the heck do you mean," Brittany sighed, "Like, whatever...I knew you'd chicken out."

She whipped out her cell phone and accessed the web.

"What are you doing?" Jadell sniffed, wiping away her tears. She was blinded by a sudden flash of white light.

"Oh, just sending the entire school a message, telling how much of a wuss Jadell Lang really is." Brittany grinned haughtily. "And your sobbing face will prove it!"

By the time Jadell could see again, she gasped in horror as she saw a horrible site other than Brittany. Behind the bratty teen, Jade saw a gruesome, ghostly figure looming up behind her.

She opened her mouth to yell out a warning, but nothing but a dry wheeze came out.

Brittany looked up at her with a puzzled expression.

"Like, what's your problem, now, freak?"

But Jadell didn't have time to answer before the figure grabbed Brittany by the shoulders, digging it's long, ugly yellow fingernails into her flesh, drawing blood. Brittany dropped her phone, which clattered to the floor, breaking. She screamed so loud that Jadell was sure that anyone passing by outside would've heard her. Jadell began crying again as she watched Brittany be thrown against the wall. A sickening crack sounded and she fell to the dirty floor, dead. The figure walked up to her, looking down at her motionless body, grinning. It then turned its decaying head towards Jadell who, by now, was breathing hard, her face stained with tears. The figure slowly progressed towards her.

The last thing Jadell remembered was screaming. Then, blackness.

**8D Please Comment and review :3 I'm a beginner writer for this series and I would really appreciate the feedback! Thanks for reading!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here  
**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

_"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"_

_The smell of blood and burning flesh filled his nostrils as he ran down the stairs, carrying his four month old baby brother, who was too young to comprehend what was going on around him. Lucky him. Suddenly, a figure blocked Dean's exit. It was a woman wearing a long, white nightgown. Her long, dark blonde hair was stringy and straggly. Her skin was pale white. A large, deep red stain stood out on her nightgown, where her belly was._

_"Where are you going, dear? Why are you leaving?" the woman asked, her eyes filled with sadness._

_Dean backed away, almost stumbling. He looked down at his brother, but he was gone. He held an empty blanket._

_"Sam?" he cried, looking around frantically. "Sammy?"_

_The woman walked towards him. Dean collapsed as his legs buckled. The woman was engulfed in a wave of fire. Soon, everything around Dean was in flames. They licked dangerously close to his flesh. He could feel the searing pain as his flesh started to burn. He screamed._

_"SAMMY!"_

"DEAN! Dean! Wake up!" a distant voice cried. "DEAN!"

Dean's eyes shot open. He sat up, gasping. His body was drenched in sweat, making his black t-shirt stick to his chest and back.

The covers that had once been draped over him were now twisted around his waist and left leg. His pillows were on the ground.

Dean looked over at the face of his younger brother, who was standing up beside his bed, looking down at him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Sam?" Dean said, almost in a breathless whisper.

"I'm right here, Dean." Sam quickly sat down beside him and put a hand on his quivering shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Dean put a shaky, sweaty hand to his drenched face. This was more than enough to tell Sam that his big brother wasn't as alright as he would say he was.

"Was it another nightmare?" Sam asked gently, now proceeding to rub his brother's back to comfort him more.

Dean looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Yes," he replied, "about Mom."

Sam nodded. Ever since that day when they had lost their mother to a house fire caused by a yellow-eyed demon named Azazel, the Winchester Brothers had been having countless nightmares about her and about the people they failed to protect and save. And it seemed like they would forever have them till they died. But that wasn't true. The boys had also died many times but were resurrected, whether by one another or by an angel. But that just seemed to add to the horrible nightmares. Both sometimes wished that they lived normal lives. But that was never going to happen. They were stuck in the family business of hunting down and killing things that went bump in the night. Anytime they stopped, more people could die.

"Well, it's alright now, Dean," Sam said reassuringly, continuing to rub his big brother's back. "You're back in reality. There's nothing to fear anymore."

Dean looked at Sam again, but this time with an appalled look on his face.

"Dude...what part of 'no chick-flick moments' do you not understand?"

Sam smiled. His brother was teasing him again. He was okay now.

"Sorry, dude." Sam stood up and headed back to his bed, picking up and tossing Dean's pillows back to him.

Dean reached over the bed and hoisted up the rest of his blankets after he untangled the parts from around his waist and leg. He glanced at the clock radio on the night-stand between the two beds. _3 A.M. Great..._

Dean sighed and laid back down, his eyelids drooping as he did. Within seconds, he was out like a light.

Sam watched his brother sleep for a few minutes before finally doing so himself.

* * *

Dean awoke to the sound of a TV being on. He groaned as he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looked at the clock radio again. _8 A.M._ It'd been five hours since his nightmare attack. He felt extremely tired. But nothing like a good cup of Joe to perk up his spirits. He looked over at Sam, who was sitting at the foot of his bed, intently watching the TV screen. A newscast was on, right in the middle of a news report.

_"The sleepy town of Canal Fulton, Ohio was shaken by a brutal murder that happened late last night. The body of former cheerleader and volleyball captain, Brittany Robinson, was found mutilated in the basement of the town's legendary Warehouse on the Canal. Witnesses saw another girl run outside of the building, screaming and crying. Police are trying to talk to the girl, but her father is keeping them away, saying that she is traumatized and should not be talking to any detectives until she is ready..."_

Sam turned off the TV and looked over at Dean, who returned the look.

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

"Dunno, what do you think?" Dean responded.

"Ghoul attack?"

"Possibly."

"Should we check it out?"

"Don't see why not. Only about a half-hour away."

"Think we'll find anything?"

"When do we _not_?"

"Good point. I'll pack up."

"And I'll get the car."

The brothers then set off to do their tasks after they got dressed.

Minutes later, they were roaring out of Canton, Ohio inside Dean's precious black, 1967 Impala and heading towards their next hunt.

**:D YAY! Angst! Dean and Caring!Sam X333 I luv that combo! As well as Hurt!Dean and Protective/Caring!Sam X3**


	3. Chapter 3

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here  
**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Sam had driven since Dean was still jet lagged from the early morning nightmare. And he knew how cranky his older brother would be if he didn't get his sleep. He glanced over at Dean, who had his sunglasses on and was lying against the passenger side door of the Impala, snoring quietly. Sam smiled and shook his head. He swore his brother could sleep through a war if he was given the chance to.

Of course, that option wasn't available at the moment. The Apocalypse had begun, all thanks to Sam, who chose trusting a demon over his own brother. That led to the Devil, Lucifer, to be set free and wreak havoc on the world. To make matters worse, the brothers discovered that they were the vessels of Lucifer and the fallen angel, Michael. They were to fight on opposite sides of the war, which meant that they would be pitted against each other, and maybe have to kill each other. All for what? To solve a dispute that had been around since the beginning of the universe? Neither brother was willing to hurt or kill the other just for that. That was why they refused to say "yes" to either Lucifer and Michael.

Sam sighed and forced his mind out of the thought of him killing Dean as he got off of Highway 224 and pulled onto South Main Street. He reached over and tapped Dean on the shoulder.

"Dean, wake up. We're here."

Dean jumped at Sam's touch and sat up swiftly, looking around, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head.

"About time," Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes, "that seemed to take longer than a freaking half hour."

"Well, we did stop to eat for lunch and to fill up the Impala," Sam pointed out. "Not to mention the numerous pit stops."

"Hey, I didn't know that beer I had today would go through me so fast!" Dean said defensively.

"Sure, Dean, sure." Sam grinned and shook his head as he parked opposite the warehouse on North Canal Street.

Police had put caution tape around the entire building. No one was around, which was good as the brothers ducked under the tape and up to the locked door. As Sam kept a sharp eye out, Dean worked his lock-picking skills on the old fashioned tubular lock. It took him just seconds to get it unlocked. He then slowly pushed open the door, which only squeaked a tiny bit, but it made him flinch.

"You'd think they'd update their security," Dean muttered as he and Sam entered. Sam shut the door behind him so it wouldn't make people who passed by wonder.

Dean took out his flashlight and began looking around the dark room. The shades that had been drawn the night before to prevent any thieves from looking inside to see what they could steal were still drawn.

Dean turned to Sam, who was examining the old, worn out pictures in their frames that hung on the wall nearest the door. He aimed his flashlight at him, nearly blinding him when he turned.

"Dude! Seriously?" Sam exclaimed, shielding his eyes.

"Hehe, sorry Sammy," Dean smiled. "Alright, you stay up here and keep an eye out for cops. I'm gonna go down and check out the actual crime scene."

"Okay," Sam nodded, "be careful, Dean."

Dean held his arms out. "When am I not?"

"You want the list in alphabetical or chronological order?"

"Bite me."

Dean then proceeded down the stairs that led to the basement. He took his favorite ivory grip .45 caliber out from the back of his jeans and held it out in front of him with one hand, while manning the flashlight in the other hand. Once he reached the bottom step, he immediately stepped over to the crime scene area. There was a chalk outline where Brittany's body had been, along with a wide blotch of dried blood. More had been splattered on the surrounding walls. He crouched down and touched the dried blood with his fingertip.

"Poor girl," he said to himself. "She sounded hot too, being a cheerleader and a volleyball player,"

He heard footsteps behind him. He stood up quickly, gun aimed.

There was nobody there.

"Sam?" he called, his deep voice echoing around the damp and musty concrete walls.

No reply. Dean sighed and slowly lowered his gun, but kept the safety off. It was loaded with rock salt, since he knew that's what it took to kill off ghouls and spirits.

He shook his head and sighed. He then noticed a mirror on the other side of the room. He approached it.

Dean took his jacket sleeve and wiped away the thin layer of dust that coated the glass' surface. He looked at his reflection and grinned.

"Who knew I was this handsome?"

**_"I love you..."_**

Dean turned again, aiming his gun. He swore he had just heard a faint voice just now.

"Hello? Is this Casper the Friendly Ghost?" Dean looked around as he slowly walked about the seemingly empty basement.

"I love you..." the mysterious voice said again, more loudly this time.

"Hey, if you were alive, we could probably have something, but seeing as your not, I doubt this relationship would go far," Dean said, becoming a bit more alert.

_**"I love you..."**_

Dean was starting to get annoyed. He wished the invisible ghost would appear so he could put a rock-salt round through it's head. He tucked his pistol under his armpit and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the EMF meter that he had created out of an old Walkman. The bulbs at the top were flashing red and a high-pitched wail was going off. That meant that either there were a dozen or so spirits floating around, or a single nasty one.

Dean really hoped it wasn't the latter.

All of a sudden, his stomach started to feel funny. His head got dizzy and his vision clouded.

"What the..." he moaned, stumbling as he tried to keep his balance. But he eventually wound up on his hands and knees. The EMF meter, flashlight, and gun clattered to the floor. Dean flinched as the gun went off, forgetting he had the safety off. Thankfully, the bullet shot just an inch over his head and hit the wall behind him.

Dean's vision got cloudier and the sick feeling in his stomach turned into a massive stomach pain, like there were knives in it. He groaned.

"Sammy!" he tried to cry out, but all that came out was a pained scream.

He heard more footsteps, this time they were a lot heavier and rushed. They were coming down the stairs towards him.

A faint voice screamed to him. It was deep and concerned.

As quick as the nauseating feeling came, it subsided and Dean could see and think clearly again. He realized he was now on his back, panting and sweating. Sam's face appeared above him. It was upside down.

"Dean! Are you okay? Dean! Answer me! Dean!" Sam was saying hurriedly.

"Ungh..." Dean moaned, closing his eyes in pain. Unfortunately what he had just experienced left him with a killer headache.

Sam put his hands under Dean's head and upper back, slowly sitting him upwards.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, Sammy. You tell me," Dean responded, putting a hand to his stomach. "Man, I feel like I was ran over by a truck, then trampled by elephants."

Sam smiled and laughed. "So in other words, you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Dean then began to wonder how a spirit was able to cause him massive stomach pain and nausea. Out of the ones he'd encountered, he never experienced something like that before.

Sam grasped Dean's left hand with his while keeping his other one on Dean's back as he helped him stand up.

"Man, you scared me to death, Dean," Sam shook his head. "When I saw you on the ground, writhing in pain like that..."

"Sammy, no chick-flick moments," Dean warned, "let's just get the heck out of here and find someplace to stay. Then tomorrow we'll go have a chat with that girl, see what she knows."

"If she'll even talk to us," Sam pointed out, helping his brother up the stairs.

"I'm pretty sure they wouldn't say 'no' to a couple of FBI agents, unlike they had with the Mayberry Police."

"Right, because everyone loves to be interrogated by men in black suits wielding fake badges."

"Exactly!" Dean nodded as the brothers made it outside without being noticed.

They headed back to the Impala. Sam insisted to drive after Dean's encounter, but as usual, the older brother refused and started on his younger brother that just because he had one dizzy spell didn't mean he was incapable of driving his baby.


	4. Chapter 4

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here  
**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

**Warning:** Does mention cutting

* * *

The next day, Jadell sat up in her room quietly, like she had been since the incident. The lights were off and the red curtains were drawn to a close. She sat huddled in the farthest corner, her knees held up to her chin with her arms interlocked around them. Her head rested on top of them. She was crying. Ever since Brittany's horrible murder- the one she witnessed and would never forget- everyone at school disregarded her even more. Some had even said that she was the one who had done the murder. Others claimed she was doing witchcraft, that she had led Brittany down to the basement to perform some evil spell on her. There was another rumor. Jadell hated this one the most. The rumor was that she had summoned a ghost or a demon to do her evil bidding; to teach Brittany a painful lesson.

It was ridiculous. Jadell just wanted to kill herself. She didn't belong in this world. No one would miss her. Would anyone even know that she was gone? No. Maybe her brother and father may. But not everyone else. They could all go to Hell for all she cared.

Jadell lifted her head, tears streaming out of her eyes. She looked down at the razor blade she held in her quaking palm. She considered this option since that night. But she was afraid. She knew it would only take one swift motion across each wrist to do the job. But she was afraid. She really didn't want to die. But if the world was gonna be this sick and cruel to her...

Jadell jumped and gasped as a sudden knock echoed through her room.

"Jade? Yo, you in there," her brother's voice asked from the other side of the door, "you're not still moping are you? There's some dudes in suits out here that wanna talk to ya."

Jadell quickly tossed the razor blade under her bed, where later she would retrieve it and put it back into her father's bathroom. She stood up and wiped away her tears, though she knew that the black circles under her eyes were still gonna be visible. The fact that her nearly stark white skin would make them even more noticeable did not help at all.

She sighed and opened her door wide enough so she could see her brother and the two men he mentioned. One of the men was tall and had chin-length shaggy brown hair. He stood comfortably in a nice black suit with a matching tie. The other man, however, was occasionally tugging absentmindedly at his tie. He was shorter than the other man and had short, spiky dark brown hair. He wore a navy blue suit. A faint stubble was visible on his chin.

"Jadell Lang, I presume?" asked the short man.

Jadell glared at them. "Depends on who's asking," she responded coldly.

The two men glanced at each other briefly as they both reached behind the lapels of their suits and pulled out badges and showed them to her.

"I'm Agent Conan and this is my partner, Agent Holmes," the short one said, putting away his badge, as did the tall one, "we'd like to ask you a few questions, concerning the murder of Brittany Robinson."

"Why, you think I had something to do with it, too?" Jadell snapped harshly, catching them by surprise.

"No, no, no," the tall one interjected quickly, holding up his hands in defense, "of course not. We'd just like to ask you what you saw."

"Of course, you are one of the main suspects in this case," the short one added. The other man hit him on the shoulder with the back of his hand as he gave him a stern look.

Jadell rolled her eyes and stepped aside to allow them in.

"I'll be downstairs, making dinner if you need anything." Ethan said before disappearing down the hall.

Agents Conan and Holmes entered Jadell's room.

"Kinda dark in here, don't you think?" Conan asked.

"So? Are you afraid of the dark?" Jadell sneered.

"Uh, we just think it's best if we could actually see each other when we talk, is all," Agent Holmes interrupted Conan before he could say a word, "if, you don't mind?"

"Whatever..." Jadell sighed and flicked on the light.

With her room painted a deep crimson red with vertical black stripes and all the goth decor, the place seemed to be better in the dark.

"Is this a phase you're going through?" Conan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No...it's who I am," Jadell responded, sitting in her computer chair, "you have a problem with that?"

_"Dude, if she was a guy, I'd so knock her one..."_ Conan thought, feeling his headache returning. He didn't like Jadell's haughty attitude. But in a way, it reminded him of himself.

He refrained himself from being smart back as he said, "No, not at all. I was just wondering, you know."

Another eye roll from Jadell.

"Now, Jade -" Agent Holmes began.

"_Jadell_. Only my brother and father can call me _'Jade'_"

"-Sorry, Jadell," Holmes continued. "What can you tell us? Please be truthful. We're just trying to help you is all."

Jadell shifted in her chair and sighed, looking down at her black carpeted floor. Miniature red skulls grinned up at her. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She noticed neither Conan nor Holmes had a writing utensil or a paper pad out. Shouldn't they if they were gonna take notes?

She put that thought at the back of her mind as she began.

"Brittany Robinson was the most popular and prettiest girl in the school. But she was with a different guy every week. It sickened me and I hated her for it. But I would never kill her! I just had enough of her though. So when she and her friends had dared me to go into the Warehouse on the Canal at night, I figured I'd show them how brave I was and enter, hoping it'd shut them up. Brittany had tagged along to make sure I didn't chicken out. She said if I did, the whole school would know. I was already hated enough..."

By this time, Jadell had tears streaming from her eyes. Holmes stood up and knelt down beside her, putting a comforting hand on the 16 year old's back, making her jump a little. He had a soft touch. Jadell looked at him, into his rich, green eyes that had faint traces of brown in them. They were beautiful. Jadell realized she was blushing so she quickly looked down again.

"Anyways, when Brittany and I had reached the basement, I found this old, dusty mirror."

"Really," Conan tensed up at the mention of this mirror, "Do you know anything about this mirror?"

"Some kids at school said that if you looked long enough into it, you would be able to see your loved ones...the ones who had long since passed." Jadell sniffed.

"Did you see anyone when you looked in it?" Holmes asked.

"Yes." Jadell began to cry once more.

"Can you tell us who?" Conan pressed gently.

"I saw my mother," Jadell responded through sobs, "I saw my mother!"


	5. Chapter 5

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here  
**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Officer Marco had always hated the night shift. He had been afraid of the dark since he was a kid. Of course, he'd never let his fellow precinct officers know that fact. They would never let him live it down! So he decided to man up and keep an eye on the old warehouse and keep anymore reckless teens from entering and getting hurt...or worse. He'd hate for them to wind up like that Brittany Robinson girl.

As Marco finished his second look over of the first floor, he decided that it was break time. Of course, it had only been ten minutes since his last one, but he could care less. He had nothing else to do. So, he sat down at one of the tables of the dining area and took out a squashed McDonald's cheeseburger. They _never_ looked the way as they were advertised. But they were still very tasty! He unwrapped his dinner and took a hungry bite out of it, savoring the delicious, juicy meat, warm soft buns, and tangy mustard and gooey ketchup. He was eating happily till a loud clang nearly made him choke. He quickly swallowed, regretting it since the action actually did cause him to almost choke. He whipped out his caliber and flashlight and slowly aimed them around the room.

"Alright kiddies," Marco said, trying to sound tough, despite his scrawny and tiny form, "I have a loaded gun and a nightstick! I suggest you high-tail it outta here before I have to use either of them!"

The clang made him jump again.

"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you!" Marco made his way into the next room. The clanging got louder and clearer as he searched around. His heart pounded rapidly, and he began to sweat. He was still a rookie, so he still didn't have the steel nerves the rest of his team had. And they knew it. So why assign him this dumb shift?

He eventually found the source. The single, thick steel cable of the old, run down, elevator shaft that carried the boxcar up and down was swinging in a draft that was coming from upstairs and hitting against the concrete wall. Marco sighed and put the safety of his gun back on and holstered it. He reached out and grabbed the cable to make it stop swinging. He released it and turned, shaking his head.

_**Clang!Clang!Clang!**_

The sound resumed. Marco groaned and turned back around. He grabbed the cable again and let it go, He kept an eye on it. Nothing seemed to happen. But when he turned again, the clanging went on.

"Okay! That's enough!" Marco cried, grabbing the cable roughly. He was panting. He always did get annoyed easily. That was the reason his wife had left him. She claimed everything had got on his nerves, and she couldn't take his sudden outbursts anymore. Marco hadn't meant to make his one true love leave. He missed her so much.

Marco was just about to leave to finish his dinner, but before he knew it, he was roughly shoved from behind, into the elevator shaft, where he was uncomfortably crushed against the wall, his legs folded up against his chest painfully. He had dropped his flashlight when he was shoved. It had rolled all the way across the room. The light was flickering, as if the battery was going dead. But Marco had put in a fresh one that morning.

Marco felt blood trickle down the sides of his face. His nose was broken and he had a large gash on his forehead.

"Please," he begged as he heard soft footsteps fall behind him, "don't hurt me!"

"Oh, don't worry," an unknown voice said coldly from behind him. "This won't hurt at all..."

Marco cried, at least until he suddenly felt the crushing force that was keeping him pinned against the wall increase. He gasped as he felt his ribs pop simultaneously, poking his lungs. He could feel his stomach and liver slowly being compressed. His skull cracked and his eyeballs popped almost out of their sockets. Blood seeped from his already bleeding nose, mouth, ears, and eyes.

Minutes later, he was released and he dropped down into the basement below in a crumpled mess. He was dead. Crushed to death by an unseen force.

He would never get the chance again to remind the CFPD that he hated the night shift.

* * *

**D: Poor Marco ;_; **


	6. Chapter 6

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here  
**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Sam looked up upon hearing a knock at his bedroom door, which opened soon. Dean stuck his head in.

"So, find out anything, Mr. Geek?" he asked teasingly.

Sam chuckled and shook his head.

"Just a bit of how this town was founded," he responded, "what about you?"

"I drove around for a bit, and I did discover something." Dean came all the way into the room, closing the door behind him.

Sam and Dean had found vacancy at the Canal House Bed and Breakfast located on the outskirts of town. Dean was ecstatic to discover that the place served a delicious breakfast every morning. It was also fortunate that the Winchesters were also able to get their own room. The Canal House had only three bedrooms up for vacancy, but there was no way either brother was going to share a twin-sized bed with one another. They loved each other more than anything in the world (well, Sam sometimes wondered if Dean cared about the Impala more than him, but he highly doubted it), but they didn't want to share a single, small bed. It was bad enough that some people had thought that they were gay lovers, though sometimes Dean went along with it, just to spite his baby brother.

"Really, what did you find?" Sam asked, sitting back in his chair. His Dell Inspiron laptop sat open in front of him where he had been scoping the net for anything about the tiny town of Canal Fulton and it's creepy warehouse since their chat with Jadell 3 hours ago.

"There was another murder about an hour ago," Dean answered as he sat down on Sam's bed.

"Another teenager?"

"Nope. This time it was a local police officer, Marco Lorenzo. His body was found in the basement after his co-workers realized he hadn't returned from his shift. But a tell-tale blood streak was found in the elevator shaft and ran the entire length down to the basement floor. His whole body looked as if someone or something had dropped a steam roller on top of him."

"Ew." Sam fought not to imagine such a grotesque scene.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "it seems as if this town isn't as quiet as it seems. There's something fishy going on around here. And I'll go back to Hell again before we give up on solving this mystery."

"Dean, when do we ever give up?" Sam pointed out.

Dean nodded. "Touche, little bro. So, what did you find?"

Sam put his chair back down on all fours and looked back at his laptop.

"Nothing much. Canal Fulton used to be a part of a series of villages that were created during the construction of the canal from 1826 to 1836, the first being Fulton. During that time, James Lathrop and William Christmas -"

Dean snorted. "Christmas?"

"-laid out the village on May 16, 1826," Sam continued, ignoring his brother's remark, "Two bridges connected Fulton to its neighboring village, Milan. By 1830, Fulton had three warehouses, two taverns, two stores, seven dwelling houses, and forty inhabitants. 'Canal' was prefixed to Fulton in 1832. In 1953, Canal Fulton, West Fulton, and Milan merged into one community."

"As interesting as that sounds, Brainiac, how about something about the warehouse?" Dean said, trying and failing to absorb all the information that was suddenly thrown at him. Holding knowledge like that was never his strong suit.

Sam closed his laptop and shook his head, making some of his long locks of brown hair fall into his eyes. Dean had always nagged him to get a haircut, but Sam refused to.

Dean sighed.

"I guess this means a return trip back to that creepy place?" Sam noticed he looked a bit uneasy about the idea.

"Maybe not," Sam said, "Jadell told me that the owners of the warehouse didn't live too far from it. So I suggest we go ask them about the place and see what they can tell us."

"If they're willing to tell us anything," Dean pointed out.

"Like you said before, Dean. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't say 'no' to a couple of FBI agents."

Dean chuckled and patted Sam on the shoulder. "Proud of ya, Sammy. You're becoming less and less of a girl, though you still are one," he added with a wink.

"Yeah, screw you," Sam smiled.

Dean stood up and headed back to the door.

"G'nite, _Samantha_." he said before leaving, barely missing being hit by an airborne pillow.

* * *

**I adore the brotherly love between Sam and Dean so much, I want to cry every time they have a bonding momet ;w; So of course I sneak one in here XD**


	7. Chapter 7

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Sam and Dean followed the directions that Jadell had written down on a piece of paper for them that led them to a beautiful single story ranch house that had dozens of thorny bushes that had roses that varied in hues of red, pink, yellow and white were strewn around the place along with a few other beautiful flowers. A large garden sprawled beside the front porch. It was full of small, violet blue flowers known as Scillas.

"Looks like Mrs. Warehouse has quite the green thumb." Dean smirked as he and Sam stepped up onto the porch. The brothers wore their crisp FBI suits once more.

"I'll say. I never seen flowers that vibrant and colorful before." Sam agreed.

"Dude, since when does a _guy _use adjectives like _vibrant_ and _colorful_?" Dean rolled his eyes before knocking on the door. The glass on it rattled a bit, making Dean think that it would break if he knocked again. "Guess the locks in this town aren't the only things to be updated."

The door opened and a man who looked to be in his late 50s or so appeared. He had short brown hair with quite a bit of grey and large, square glasses and wore a red sweater vest with tan khaki pants and brown loafers.

"Yes? May I help you?" the man asked in a deep voice.

"Hello sir, My name is Agent Meyers, and this is Agent Olsen," Sam took out his badge and showed it to the man. Dean did the same thing.

_"Olsen?"_ he thought bitterly. _"I would never think of naming myself after the freakin' Olsen twins! Last time he gets to pick the names!"_

"Agents?" the man looked confused. "Oh, wait you must be here about the two murders that happened at my warehouse."

"Yes sir," Sam nodded, "we know you might've already gone over this with the local police, but we would really appreciate it if you just answer a few more questions for us."

"Oh of course, come on it, please!" The man stepped aside to allow Dean and Sam to enter into the foyer.

"Nice place you got here Mr.-" Dean paused, realizing he had no idea what his name was.

"Ken. Ken Roberts." Ken held out his hand. Dean took it and nodded, smiling. "I'm glad you like what you see. Please, come into the living room and make yourself comfortable. My wife, Margarita, is just in the kitchen making some cookies. I'm sure if you're nice, she'll let you have some," he added with a wink and smile.

"Aw, that's okay, Ken. We appreciate it," Sam said quickly before Dean could say a word. Knowing his brother's voracious appetite, he'd rather let his stomach speak for itself rather than his brain. Dean gave him a quick glare and rolled his eyes. Ken was a bit confused. But he decided to let it go.

"Do you need to talk to her as well?" he asked.

"That would be beneficial, yes," Dean said, "if she wouldn't mind, of course."

"What wouldn't I mind?" A woman with pinned up sandy blonde hair that also had traces of grey entered, wearing a long skirt and a sweater. A platter full of freshly baked cookies were balanced delicately in her small hands.

Dean looked longfully at the cookies. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Margarita! These fine gentlemen are Agents Meyers and Olsen, with the FBI. They've come to discuss the murders." Ken explained.

"Oh, dear. Tragic is what they were." Margarita set the plate of cookies down on the coffee table. "Please, help yourself, Agents."

Before Sam could object, Dean reached down and grabbed three of the warm and gooey chocolate chip mint cookies.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"It's my pleasure, my dear." Margarita smiled.

The four of them then sat down; the couple sitting in the armchairs on one side of the table and Sam and Dean taking the love seat on the other side.

"So, how long have you owned the warehouse?" Sam asked, getting down to business.

"Well, let's see. We owned it since about 2000. The warehouse was built in 1906," Margarita said, looking up at the ceiling in thought. "It was originally owned by a great man named Charles O. Finefrock. He ran the warehouse as a furniture store. No one really knows what happened to him afterwards. Some say he died sometime in the 1930s. But there was no death certificate or anything of that sort."

"That's strange," Sam said, getting a strange feeling in his gut.

"It is quite odd, indeed. Death can be unpredictable." Margarita sighed.

"You can say that again," Dean muttered.

"Pardon me?"

"Oh, nothing," Dean said innocently.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about the warehouse?" Sam said.

"Well, every year in October it's open to the public for tours. But sometimes we hold private ones for eager folks."

"Tours?"

"Why, yes. You did know that the warehouse was haunted, right?" Ken asked, looking skeptical.

Dean choked on the cookie he was eating. Sam quickly patted him on the back.

"Oh, dear. I'll get you some water." Margarita hurried off back into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a small glass of water. After Dean's choking fit, he swallowed the water.

"Haunted?" he asked as soon as he caught his breath.

"It's a sad story, really," Margarita sighed again, "you see, in the 1920s-1930s, the Warehouse on the Canal served as a funeral home and a mortuary. Mr. Finefrock ran it as a second business."

"Is that a fact," Sam said as he quickly took note of it in the small, leather-bound notebook he pulled out of his jacket.

"There was a horrible plague that had ravished Canal Fulton during the 1910 era. By then the population had doubled, maybe even tripled. A lot of people had died during that fateful time. That had caused the warehouse to be overcome by corpses. Bodies were piled up in the basement as the death rate increased drastically. For several decades after that, most of the building, including the attic and basement was closed to the public."

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look that only they understood what it meant before returning their attention back to the couple.

"So, then after you two took over ownership, you decided to turn it into a tourist attraction?" Dean asked with utter disbelief.

"It was either that or lose one of the most historical and beloved buildings of the town!" Margarita exclaimed, seeming hurt by Dean's noticeable reaction.

"Oh, I didn't mean..." Dean just stopped there. He didn't want to make things worse. "Excuse me, I need some air."

Ken, Margarita, and Sam watched as he set down the cookies he hadn't eaten yet and get up quickly, heading out the door.

"We thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Roberts," Sam said, standing, "That bit of info is a lot of help to us."

"Oh, it was no problem, Agent Meyers." Ken stood up with him and shook his hand. "Please come back anytime you need to speak to us again."

"We'll be sure to do so, thank you."

Sam then left.

He found Dean standing beside the Impala, his hands propped up on the roof and his head hung low.

"Dean, what's going on with you?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't reply. He remained standing there quietly.

"Dean?"

"Sam, those people aren't right!" Dean suddenly snapped, turning around, making Sam jump a bit.

"What? Why?" Sam was stunned.

"These greedy bastards are using the final resting place of dozens of poor souls as a freaking money generator, Sam!" Dean replied, his voice rising in anger.

"Dean, calm down," Sam looked nervously back at the house to make sure the Roberts weren't around.

"How am I supposed to calm down, Sam?" Dean kicked the dirt before heading around the car to the driver's side.

"I don't know, Dean. But...look. I know what these people are doing is wrong. But I don't think there's anything we can do about it. It's how they make money. If we just take away the business that they have been running for 10 years, they'll be left with nothing. I think the best we can do is just maybe find out whoever is behind these murders and take them down instead. Because, for all we know, these 'hauntings' or whatever has nothing to do with the murders."

"And what if they do? That means we have more than a dozen bodies to salt and burn, Sammy," Dean pointed out, "but I suppose that'll be a bad idea since these cuckoos need their ghosts to run their business."

Dean then fell silent as he opened the door and folded himself into the driver's seat, slamming the car door shut. He put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine purred to life. Sam sighed and shook his head before getting in the passenger side.

The Impala then drove out of the driveway and headed back to the Canal House Bed and Breakfast for a night's work of research and rest, though they doubted any of them would get any sleep after what they had just heard.

* * *

**I got all my info from the net XD I wish I could've visited the warehouse and met Ken and Margarita myself D:**


	8. Chapter 8

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Sam Winchester had spent a good three hours at the Canal Fulton Public Library to see if he could find anything more about this Charles O. Finefrock. But all he had found out was basically the same thing Margarita had told him and Dean. He sighed and exited the library as it was beginning to close for the night. He looked down the dark brick street that led in the direction of the warehouse. He wanted to go back for another look, but going alone could only prove to be a dumb idea. It was something Dean would do. Sam shook his head and headed down the steps and looked both ways before crossing the road, heading over to where the Impala sat on the side of the road underneath a large dogwood tree, parked right behind a stop sign. He could see Dean leaning back in the driver's seat, his sunglasses on, despite the fact that it was night. He was sound asleep.

The brothers had planned to do more research at the Canal House, but once Sam had noticed the library on the way back, he had made Dean stop so he could check the archives for anything that would help them with this case. Sam was afraid to tell Dean that he had found nothing, but he knew his big brother would complain that this unnecessary trip was a huge waste of time and gas. The Impala was running low and the price of gas in this town was a bit high. But as soon as he got back into the car, Dean jolted awake and asked him what he found out. Sam replied and got the reply he'd know he'd get. So he had to listen to his brother's grumbles as he started the Impala and pulled out onto Market Street.

"Well, if we can't find anything at the freakin' library, then I guess we have no choice but to go back to the warehouse tonight and see if we can contact these spirits," Dean sighed sharply, expressing his annoyance, heading down the road towards said location.

"If it's ghosts we're worried about, then there shouldn't be an issue," Sam said, "rock-salt should do the trick."

"These aren't normal ghosts, Sammy. They're powerful son-of-a-guns who had already killed two people. If we're not careful, we'll be next."

"They have to have motives, right?" Sam wondered.

"Or they could be just plain evil."

"Right. But what if they're just trapped spirits who just want to be set free?"

"So they express themselves by murdering innocent people?" Dean looked at Sam with furrowed eyebrows. "I dunno, Sam, That seems a bit too desperate to me."

"Or, someone could be controlling the spirits with some kind of amulet, like Sue Anne was doing with that Reaper back in Nebraska."

"Or Walter in Hollywood," Dean added.

"Exactly. So these spirits could be acting on some guy's poor judgment."

"But why kill a cheerleader and a police officer?" Dean asked. "Usually these kind of murders have some sort of connection."

"Maybe he just hates cheerleaders and police officers," Sam suggested, earning a glare from Dean.

"Cute, Sammy."

The Impala reached the corner of Canal Street. The warehouse loomed eerily above the other buildings. Just looking at it sent chills down Dean's spine.

"You okay, Dean?" Sam took notice of the paling of his brother's face.

"I'm...fine. Let's just get this over with. The sooner we solve this case, the sooner we can put this town in our rear-view mirror."

Since Dean's freaky ordeal from the last time they had went to the warehouse, Sam couldn't help but notice that he looked hesitant every time they mentioned going back. He didn't blame him. He couldn't imagine the pain Dean had experienced and was afraid that it would happen again. But they had to get this mission done if they wanted to save this tiny town from anymore fatalities.

Dean parked the Impala right at the corner so any passing patrolling cops wouldn't see it and get curious and check the place out. The brothers then got out and met each other at the back of the car, where Dean unlocked the trunk, lifting it and the false bottom to reveal their hidden cache of weapons that could kill basically anything they imagined; from sharpened wooden stakes to take down vampires, and silver bullets and knives to take down werewolves and shape-shifters. Boy did Dean despise shape-shifters. Ever since one had impersonated him and framed him for the murders that it did. He was off the hook for now, since the real FBI agent who was looking for him had discovered the hard way that the supernatural did exist. He was now dead.

Sam watched as Dean pulled out his .45 from the back of his jeans and tossed it into the trunk, pulling out his Baikal sawed-off double barrel shotgun and loading it with rock-salt rounds, looking as focused as he could, even though his mind was racing with thoughts about what could happen to him or Sammy in there. He normally could handle ghosts. But none of them had made him feel the way he had earlier. Once Sam grabbed his own Ithaca Pump rifle filled with rock-salt bullets and filled his pockets with extra ammunition, Dean slammed the trunk shut and locked it back up.

"I think we're good."

Dean started back towards the door, trying to be inconspicuous with the shotgun in case anyone who happened to look outside saw them, but Sam grabbed him gently by the arm, stopping him.

"Dude, what?" Dean hissed.

"Dean, I could do this one by myself if you're not feeling up to it," Sam said, his face full of concern.

"Sam, I'm fine! I'm not gonna let some psycho spirits stop me from hunting and taking them down!" Dean shrugged off Sam's hand.

"Okay, fine. If you say so."

The boys continued on, Dean picking the lock once more. They followed the traditional routine; Dean going in first, aiming his shotgun around slowly, then Sam coming in to cover him from behind. He shut the door as quietly as he could.

"Seems the most activity occurs in the basement," Dean said, "My best guess is that there's where our culprit is."

"If there even is one," Sam pointed out.

"Just shut up, Mr. Skeptical and follow me."

Dean led the way towards the stairs and slowly crept down them, Sam following closely behind.

As soon as they reached the bottom, they shined their flashlights around, splitting up to search different sections. Sam approached the mirror that Dean had earlier looked through. Jadell had said that she had seen her dead mother through it. Was it really possible that you could really the loved ones of your past?

Swallowing nervously, Sam peered in, not sure whether he'd see his mother, Mary, or his girlfriend, Jessica. His heart pounded so hard, he thought it would burst out of his chest. A blurred figure started to form. Sweat broke out across Sam's forehead and he became deafened by his increased heartbeat. Wavy blonde hair and a noticeable red blood-stain that was located where the figure's stomach was came into focus slowly. But the face was still uncertain, so he wasn't sure if it was Mary or Jessica. He really wanted to know. The figure reached a hand out to him.

_"Please, help me Sammy..."_ a pleading female voice whispered.

Sam was at a loss for words. He could barely keep his balance now.

"SAM!" Dean's harsh voice snapped him out of his trance, causing him to tear his attention away from the mirror.

Dean came running up to his little brother, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Sammy! Speak to me! You okay?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I...uh.." Sam looked back at the mirror. The woman was gone.

"Sam? Did you see someone?" Dean asked, looking at the mirror as well.

"Yeah," Sam replied, breathlessly.

"Who?"

"I'm..I'm not sure,"

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Well, snap out of it, we have a job to do."

"Right, sorry."

Sam and Dean walked away from the mirror.

"Let's check the elevator for any EMF signals," Dean suggested.

"Sounds good."

They headed over to an area of the basement where the elevator shaft sat, surrounded by three pitch-black walls. Two wooden doors revealed that a gate and caution tape blocked the entrance to the boxcar.

There was still a large dried blood streak that disappeared into the darkness above on the back wall of the shaft.

Dean shone his flashlight on the floor of the shaft. More blood. A horrible stench made him gag. He backed away a bit.

Sam had more of a stronger stomach so he stayed where he was. He noticed something black standing out amongst the dark red and grey.

"What the Hell?" He reached down and swiped a fingertip across the black substance, pulling his hand back to reveal that it was gooey and sticky.

"What did you find, Sam?" Dean peered over his shoulder.

"Ectoplasm."

"Ectoplasm? Doesn't that mean we have a strong, supernatural manifestation going on here?"

"Pretty much...yeah."

"Okay, so now we definitely know our culprit is a vengeful spirit. But who is it?"

"Well, usually vengeful spirits are born out of deaths that involved murders," Sam said, standing, "but everyone who had died a hundred years ago died from a plague. I doubt any of them would kill innocent people since they died of natural causes, right?"

Dean put his fingertips to his temples, feeling another headache coming. But a thought then occurred to him.

"Unless there was another death that wasn't so natural," he said.

Sam looked up at him. A look of realization crossed his face.

"Charles O. Finefrock."

"Margarita said he vanished without a trace one day. Perhaps he was murdered."

"Vengeful spirit is then born," Sam added.

"And then kills off anyone who is stupid enough to enter this place alone since they make easy targets," Dean concluded.

"Alright, so we find where Charles body is, salt it, burn it, then he's put to rest. Sounds simple enough." Sam shrugged.

"When is_ anything _simple, Sam?" Dean raised an eyebrow. Sam shrugged.

"There's two places to look: right here, or the cemetery."

Sam and Dean were silent for a moment as they contemplated on how they were gonna do this.

"I could look here, see if the body is in the wall while you take the cemetery," Sam offered.

"No way am I leaving you alone in this freaky place," Dean refused.

"Dean, we have to deal with this now or more innocent people are gonna die!"

"I know, I know, Sam. You don't think I haven't realized that? Ever since we first came here, I've had a bad vibe about this place. And now..." Dean suddenly stopped short, staring straight ahead past Sam. His eyes glazed over.

"Dean?" Sam waved a hand in front of his brother's face. "Dean? Are you alright? Dean?"

Sam turned around to see what Dean was looking at and froze.

Looming up in front of them was a large, wispy shadowy figure that seemed to grow in size and height. It glided towards them swiftly.

Sam quickly grabbed a handful of Dean's jacket and pulled him along as he ran for the door of the basement. But it slammed shut before they could reach it. Sam looked back and saw the shadowy figure following them. Dean was still locked into a state of fear.

"Dean! Snap out of it!" Sam yelled frantically, loading his shotgun with a couple of salt rounds. It then occurred to him that the bullets would have no effect on shadow creatures. He had never fought one before, but he had fought a couple of nasty Daevas that used the shadows to their advantage. He recalled that it seemed to be weakened by harsh, bright light, like a flare gun. But he didn't grab the one that was in the trunk, since he thought he'd just be dealing with spirits.

Sam looked down at his right hand. It gripped the flashlight it held so tightly, his knuckles were white. It was nowhere as bright as a flare gun, but it would have to do. Sam snatched the one Dean held and aimed both beams of pale yellow light at the shadow, who cried out and backed away, shrinking down to normal size. It was then when Dean snapped out of his stunned phase.

"Dude, what the hell happened?" he exclaimed. He then saw Sam holding the shadow figure at bay with the flashlights.

"This thing doesn't want us to leave!" Sam groaned.

"What do we do then? Rock salt won't do a thing to this freak!"

But before Sam could respond, the flashlights started to flicker.

"Ooohhh no," Dean moaned, "not now. No,no,no,no."

The shadow figure noticed the moment of weakness. It swung a wispy arm forward and knocked Sam into a wall.

"SAM!" Dean cried.

Sam sat against the wall. He had hit his head, but he was still conscious, but stunned.

Dean turned to face the shadow figure, but it was gone. The flashlights that were beside Sam now suddenly died.

"Perfect," Dean hissed. His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly. Faint moonlight shone in through a couple stray windows, but other than that, it was pure blackness. "Sam? You okay?"

"I'll live," Sam replied. He groaned. "Got a major headache, though."

Dean released a breath of relief. Sam was okay. But if he didn't get him out of here now, things would go downhill fast.

The brothers hadn't had much training practicing fighting ghosts and ghouls in almost pitch black darkness. They were at a serious disadvantage. And that was never a good thing.


	9. Chapter 9

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Dean shivered as the temperature of the basement dropped a few degrees lower than it had already been. He knew that meant that a ghost or ghosts were nearby. But he was ready as he held up his sawed-off. If only he could see them.

"You know," Dean said, interrupting the eerie silence, addressing the spirit , "this is very unfair. I can't see the back of my hand, so how am I supposed to see you so I can put a round through your head?"

"You really think I'm that stupid, Dean?" a voice said coldly.

Was it it his imagination, or did the voice sound, childish?

"Well..." Dean chuckled, embarrassed.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but you and your brother aren't leaving. Not now, not ever."

"So I take it that your the one who had killed Brittany and Marco?" Dean shuddered, feeling colder now. His hands started to tremble. Firing a gun would be a lot more difficult now.

"Good detective work, Sherlock," The Voice said sarcastically, "took you long enough."

"Yeah, but there's only one question that remains:_ Who are you_."

Dean heard a giggle behind him and instinctively turned around, his gun ready to fire.

"No one you would've expected. I was just another poor soul who died a horrible death. And I'm not talking about the plague." The Voice's tone sounded sad, but Dean knew they were faking it. "I fell into the elevator shaft when I was in here playing. They had forgotten to close the gate."

That confirmed Dean's thoughts about the ghost being a child. And they were female.

"You know playing in old, abandoned warehouses is never a good thing, little girl," Dean said. Goosebumps crawled up his arms. If it there was any light, he would have been able to see his breath.

"But I wanted to have fun."

"I also take it that you have some sort of control over the other spirits of this place."

"That's right. No one can resist a sweet little girl like me."

"I'm sure that was true at some point," Dean then felt a bit dizzy. He shook the feeling off. But now fatigue started getting to him.

"You don't look so good, Dean." The little girl's voice sounded closer this time, as if she was talking directly into his ear. "You look a little pale."

"Ah, nah. I'm peachy." Dean lied, trying not to let any weakness show. He had to keep the little girl distracted so he could figure out if there was any sort of light switch around. He was getting tired of hunting blindly. But in reality, he was just getting tired.

Dean felt his legs give out and he fell onto them. He lost his grip on his gun and it clattered to the ground.

"Dean," Sam called out to him through the darkness, "you okay?"

"Ungh...Sammy. Is it...cold in here? Or...is it just...me?" Dean replied wearily. His eyelids fluttered. The cold was making him drowsy.

"Dean, stay with me. You have to stay awake." Sam could detect the fatigue in Dean's voice.

"I'm trying," Dean moaned, "but this little girl is making things difficult!"

"And it's about to get worse," the little girl said with an obvious sneer.

Suddenly, the basement was filled with a dim yellow light as the light bulb above them flicked on. Now Dean could see who he had been talking to. A young girl of eight years in age with long, brown hair and brown eyes stood in front of him, wearing turn of the century clothing. A torn red ribbon hung in the back of her head. She would've been a beautiful child except for the fact that her skin was paper white and her eyes were fixed in dark, sunken sockets. She looked extremely gaunt as well.

The little girl wasn't alone either. On her right stood another ghost. It was an adult male. His skin was decaying off his bones, some of which could be seen. Dean figured he was a victim of the plague. The second figure on the girl's right was none other than the shadow figure. Wisps of black, smoke-like substance bellowed where its feet would have been.

"Seriously," Dean scoffed. "All that mojo, and you only summon up two spirits?"

"They get the job done," the little girl shrugged, "and I believe Mr. Shadow has some unfinished business with you."

"Leave him alone," Sam growled from where he sat. He was still recovering from Mr. Shadow's earlier attack.

The little girl turned her attention over to him. She smiled venomously. It was something unusual to be seen on a supposedly sweet, young girl.

"It's rude to interrupt, Sammy."

"It's _Sam_," he replied bitterly. Only Dean was allowed to call him by his childhood nickname.

"Aw, but 'Sammy' sounds cuter."

"What's your name, by the way?" Sam asked, trying to get her attention off of Dean, who looked as if he was about to pass out at any moment now. His pale skin had a bluish hue to it. Sam was afraid hypothermia was starting to kick in.

"Victoria," the little girl replied, now turning around to face Sam entirely. The other two spirits kept their sights set on Dean.

"Why are you doing this, Victoria?" Sam asked, slowly getting to his feet now. His head throbbed in pain, but he ignored it.

"Because I want to," Victoria replied simply. "because it's fun!"

"That's not a real reason. There has to be a motive."

"A motive?"

"Yeah. There has to be a reason why you killed a cheerleader and a police officer."

Victoria seemed to hesitate for an answer. She looked down at the ground and was silent. Sam quickly glanced over at Dean. He was getting weaker and weaker with every passing second. Sam had to do something fast. He could think of only one thing.

As Victoria continued to think, Sam raised his shotgun and shot her with two rock-salt bullets before turning and firing at the decaying ghost. Both screamed as they dissipated. The shadow figure seemed to vanish along with Victoria. Possibly because of it's connection to her.

Sam quickly rushed over to Dean, who was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"Dean, hey? Are you okay? Dean?" Sam shook him.

The color in Dean's face started to return. His shaking subsided and he no longer felt tired. He looked up at Sam then looked around quickly, almost making himself dizzy. Sam grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling forward.

"Where are they?"

"Gone for now," Sam said, "we have to find Victoria's bones and dispose of them before she comes back. And something tells me she'll throw more than a temper tantrum when she does."

Dean nodded in agreement. Sam helped him to his feet, making sure he was able to stand before letting him go.

"So, how do we find a body in a century old building?"

"She died in the elevator," Sam recalled, "maybe her body is somewhere in or around there."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's start digging."

Dean grabbed a sledgehammer that had been used for the renovations upstairs. Dean was grateful that the workers had forgot down here when they were possibly thinking about renovating the area. Either that or they were scared out of their wits by Victoria and her pals.

"Tell me you brought the materials, 'cause I swear if you didn't, I'll make that large bump on your head even bigger." Dean held up the sledgehammer threateningly.

Sam chuckled as he took out the can of lighter fluid, some matches, and a tin of salt from the deep abyss inside of his jacket.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy. You think we could fit the Impala in there next?" Dean asked with disbelief.

"That's pushing it, Dean." Sam laughed.

They then headed back to the elevator. Dean immediately began pounding away at one of the black walls.

Sam headed over to the elevator and felt around the floor for a hidden trapdoor or a loose floorboard.

The EMF meter in Dean's jacket pocket started going off like crazy. He cursed loudly.

"Just what we need."

The dim light bulb started to flicker like crazy.

"Sammy, keep looking! I'll keep them busy!"

Before Sam could protest, Dean dropped the sledgehammer and took off, grabbing the shotgun he had dropped earlier.

He was swallowed up by the darkness as the lights went out once more.

Sam quickly lit a match to provide as much light as he could since his flashlight was dead.

He heard gunshots and Dean yelling. Sam picked up the pace.

At last, he felt a weak point in the floor, just as the match went out. He didn't bother lighting another one. He was down to just four matches now. He grabbed the sledgehammer and started breaking away at the rotting wood, coming across a layer of concrete that he also demolished. A horrible stench of rotting flesh and decay filled his nostrils.

"Finally." Sam lit another match. The dancing glow of the flame showed a deep hole before him. Sam couldn't see Victoria's body but he knew it was down there. He opened the tin of salt and dumped almost half of it down into the pit. Next he twisted off the cap of the lighter fluid can and poured some in.

_"The body better be down there or Dean will kill me..."_ Sam thought queasily, knowing that it was a bad time to be having second thoughts. _"If he doesn't get killed first."_

Another round of gunfire and a pained scream startled Sam. The match went out again and he lit another one, just in time to come face to whatever with the shadow figure. It lunged at him, knocking him on his back. Sam dropped the match onto the ground along with the lighter fluid and salt. He watched in horror as some of the fluid spilled out into a large pool, heading directly for the match.

"Crap!" he gasped.

Sam then looked up as the shadow figure attacked again. But he rolled away to safety. He quickly grabbed another match and struck it across the concrete floor, igniting it.

"Say good-bye, ugly," Sam hissed to the shadow figure, dropping the match into the pit as it lunged again.

Within seconds, the pit erupted into flames as did the pool of lighter fluid as it made contact with the lit match.

Sam heard a banshee-like screech and jumped to his feet. He hurtled past the wall of flames that gradually increased in size as it swallowed at the old wood and materials that were strewn around the basement.

He ran to the area where Dean had been busy fighting Victoria and the decaying ghost. He stopped upon seeing the ghost of the little girl engulfed by flames. The decaying ghost that held Dean by the collar dropped him as he started dissipating quickly in a burst of red sparks and black smoke. Victoria was soon to follow.

Sam ran over to Dean, quickly pulling him to his feet, not noticing the stab wound in his shoulder.

Dean winced and groaned in pain.

"We have to get out of here, and fast." Sam panted, pulling his brother towards the stairs.

Dean noticed the raging inferno that now was as high as the ceiling.

"Dude! What did you do?"

"I uh...dropped the lighter fluid...and a match."

"Sam!"

"I didn't mean to!"

Sam hurried up the stairs and kicked open the door then ran back down to help his wounded brother up the steps.

They had barely made it outside before the entire first floor of the warehouse erupted into flames.

When they reached the car, Dean collapsed on the road on the driver's side.

"Dean!" Sam hurried over to him and that was when he noticed the stab wound. He mentally kicked himself for not seeing it before, which meant he had probably made it worse when he had grabbed him. He noticed blood streaks across the front of his shirt and slowly lifted it up, fearing what he would find. Two deep slash wounds across his abdomen and a large bruise on his chest confirmed his fears.

"We gotta get you to a hospital, Dean," Sam said nervously.

"Forget it, I'm not going to a freakin' hospital! I've had too much experiences with them! And some of them weren't good! Actually...none of them were good!" Dean moaned in pain, putting a hand on his stomach and shoulder. He cursed again. Sam knew he'd refuse to go to a hospital. He always did. He had a feeling Dean was starting to get Nosocomephobia.

Ear-shattering sirens pierced the night air. Flashing lights reflected off the sides of the nearby buildings.

"That's our cue to get the Hell out of Dodge. C'mon." Sam tried to be as careful as he could when he picked up Dean and slid him across the bench into the passenger side before sliding into the driver's side. He started the Impala and tore out of the town as fast as he could, the towering inferno where the warehouse once stood was the last thing he saw through the rear view mirror.


	10. Chapter 10

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Dean had been emitted to Canton's Aultman Hospital where he was diagnosed with a few broken ribs, a sprained left wrist, lacerations on his abdomen, and a bruised sternum. Other than that, he was perfectly fine. The only good thing to come out of this visit was the fact that he had a hot nurse _and_ doctor looking after him. Sam came in carrying two cups of fresh coffee and some cream and sugar.

"How are you feeling, bro?" he asked, handing Dean his black coffee.

"You mean other than ticked that you brought me to a hospital when I remember _clearly _that I _did not_ want to come here?" Dean said with a glare, taking his coffee with his right hand since his left one was immobile due to the cast around it.

"Yup." Sam nodded with a broad grin.

"Well, I'd say great, especially with a couple of hotties taking care of me."

The brothers were silent for a moment as they drank their coffees.

"So, do you think that fire would've taken care of the rest of the spirits inside that warehouse?" Sam asked.

"I doubt it had destroyed them, but it may have set them free so they could carry on," answered Dean with a shrug. "Probably the best for them."

"But too bad for Ken and Margarita. They lost their business."

Dean grinned into his coffee cup. "Karma sucks."

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam chuckled and punched Dean in the shoulder, forgetting that it was his injured one. Dean choked on his coffee and spilled some it onto his hospital shirt. His face scrunched up in pain.

"Dude!"

"Sorry!" Sam said apologetically, getting up immediately to grab some paper towels from the dispenser beside the door. He came back and sopped up some of the spilled coffee from Dean's shirt. But there was already a huge, faint tan stain.

Dean glared at Sam. "Remind me to kill you when I get out of here."

"I said I was sorry!" Sam said defensively.

Dean's hot nurse came in. She looked startled when she saw Sam holding a dampened paper towel and a pained Dean.

"Everything alright, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

"Just fine, Sheila. Just my little brother being a thorn in my ass yet again."

"Oh. Well. I just came by to tell you that once I change your bandages, you can leave. Your broken ribs should be fine as long as you keep that bandage around your chest, changing it at least twice a day. Taking calcium pills and drinking a lot of milk will also help. You should also avoid strenuous activity."

"Right...I'll try." Dean knew that was going to be impossible.

"Also, even though we stitched up your lacerations you shouldn't-"

"No strenuous activities. I got it."

"Right. As for the bruise, it's could've been a lot more serious if your sternum had broken. But lucky for you, it didn't. You should get plenty of rest and keep icing the area. Anti-flammatory and pain medications will help reduce inflammation and the pain as well.

Now tell me again how you managed to get all of your injuries?"

"Had a bad run-in with a football player while visiting our old high school," Dean smiled innocently, "I think he's been taking too many steroids."

"I see." Sheila said, unsure if she should believe him or not.

"Thank you so much, Sheila," Sam said quickly. "You and Dr. Megan did well looking after my brother."

"Well, it's the least we could do, Mr. Patton. Your brother is such a...fine individual and it would be a shame to let him suffer." Sheila then winked at Dean, who turned red and grinned like an idiot. Sam had to fight the urge to laugh.

"Once Dr. Megan gives you the prescription for the medicine you need for the pain, you may leave. I'll be right back with some fresh bandages and ointment."

Sheila turned and left.

"Sam? Am I still on Earth?" Dean asked.

"Uh, I'd hope so," Sam said, confused, "why?"

"I think I met the first angel who wasn't a total pain in the ass or a bitch."

"If Castiel heard you say that about him, he'd probably beat the crap out of you," Sam said.

"Nah..." Dean then stopped and stared ahead. He slowly turned his head and looked at his brother. "He wouldn't, would he?"

Suddenly, there was a flutter of wings and a middle sized man with messy dark brown hair and dark blue eyes wearing a long brown trench coat over a white dress shirt, black tie, and black pants and matching shoes appeared before Dean's hospital bed.

"Well, speak of the Devil," Dean muttered.

"I would wish you would not say that," Castiel said, his face emotionless.

"Sorry, Cas. I didn't mean any offense."

"Cas, what are you doing here?" Sam asked curiously.

"Yeah, usually you appear before anything major that involves demons or angels is about to happen or already is happening then drag us into the mess," added Dean matter-of-factly.

"I heard that you had been injured." Castiel said, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Aww, I'm touched that you care, Cas. But it's noting serious. Just a nasty run-in with some crazy spirits haunting an old warehouse that no longer exists."

"Actually, that is sort of the reason I'm here." Castiel's face looked more serious than it already was, which was hard to tell.

Sam and Dean exchanged uneasy looks before turning their attention back to their angel friend.

"Castiel, what is it?" Sam asked, feeling a lump in his throat.

"You are aware that about almost century ago, a terrible plague had ravished the town of Canal Fulton, right?" Castiel started off.

"We were told of that, yes," Dean said, not liking where this was going, "Cas? What's up Why are you-"

"The plague was caused by demons."

Sam and Dean were speechless. They felt like a two-ton anvil had dropped on them.

"_Demons_?" Dean said, horrified.

"Demons?" Sam echoed.

"Yes, demons." Castiel nodded. "And that's not the bad news."

"It certainly isn't good news, Cas." Dean felt his muscles begin to twitch involuntarily.

"Compared to what I have to say next, it is." Now Castiel's face was grave and solemn.

"Cas...just tell us," Sam pleaded, looking at the angel with his puppy eyes. His heart pounded in his chest.

Castiel glanced down at the ground and took a short deep breath and let it out slowly before he looked back at the brothers.

"It would seem that...the demons weren't finished with the town when they had first spread the disease. They had made it so that the disease would appear every 99 years, the first wave being in 1910, when the demons had invaded the town.

And the second plague is going to hit this year. I'm not sure when, exactly. But it could be anytime soon. There's no known cure to it with it being demon-related."

"Well that's just great!" Dean cursed loudly again. "Just when we thought the freakin' _ghosts _were bad! Now we get thrown a freakin' curve ball! God, I _hate _demons!"

"That means...Jadell and her family...they'll die," Sam said quietly.

"As well as Ken and Margarita Roberts," Castiel added. "I am sorry."

"Just when we think we saved everyone, we fail again." Dean had his head buried into his hands.

"You did not fail, Dean," Castiel said reassuringly. "You was not aware of this fact."

"Can't you just get everyone out of the town," Dean asked hopefully, "send them somewhere else?"

"Dean, you know I cannot interfere with things like this," Castiel replied, wishing he was somewhere else other than here.

"Aw, no of course not!" Dean felt his anger rise as his outburst escaped. "It's because it goes against your precious angel code! Well you know what? I say..." Dean then stopped as he felt his chest tighten and throb in pain. He leaned forward, clutching his chest and groaned in pain.

Sam rushed to his side and rubbed his back. "Easy Dean, the nurse said not to do anything strenuous."

He helped Dean slowly lay back. Dean was sweating. Sam wetted a paper towel and dabbed his forehead with it.

Dean had wanted to speak more of his mind to Castiel, but the angel was already gone.

"Sam," Dean breathed heavily, "we have to go. Now!"

"What? Dean. We can't leave till the doctor gives you your prescription!"

"We have to go back! I can't lay here, knowing thousands of people could be _dying _right now!"

"Dean. There's nothing we can do. Castiel said-"

"He's lying! It wouldn't be the first time that bastard had either." Dean gasped as his wounds reopened. Blood soaked through his shirt.

"Dean!"

Sheila came in at that moment with a handful of gauze, bandages, and ointment. She dropped them all when she saw Dean in the condition he was in at that moment. She hurried over to him.

"What happened?" she exclaimed, ripping open his shirt and examining Dean's reopened wounds.

"H-he...uhhh...umm.." Sam was at a loss for explanation.

"I'm gonna have to go get fresh new bandages now..." Sheila sighed, picking up the ones she had dropped and tossing them into the trash bin. She hurried off, obviously ticked.

"Sam," Dean said weakly, his eyes filled with tears.

"I'm right here, Dean," Sam grasped his brother's hand as gently as he could.

"Why did we get stuck with this job?"

"To save people, Dean, you know that."

"Yeah? Well a whole town dies again thanks to us!"

"Dean, it's not our fault! It's not possible. Even if we had known...we wouldn't have been able to do a thing."

Dean started to cry and all Sam could do was grip his hand and cry along with him as the sickening truth dawned on them.

Sheila came in and changed Dean's bandages and gave him his prescription. Dean was discharged and the brothers left in grim silence. Sam took over driving as Dean sat in the passenger side, staring blankly out of the window, watching as the colors of all the scenery merged together in a fast blur.

"Do you think..." Dean said quietly, unable to finish his sentence as the words lodged in his throat.

"Yes." Sam didn't have to guess what his brother was gonna say.

He pulled onto Highway 224 and made the solemn journey towards the cursed town of Canal Fulton.

* * *

**;_; Feel free to cry...**


	11. Chapter 11

** Authors Note: **

**As much as I'd like to *and probably to the relief of the brothers*, I do not own Sam or Dean or any part of Supernatural :P Eric Kripke is the true genius behind this epic show!**

** But I do own Jadell Lang and Brittany XD This story is completed on my deviantART (DITTOFAN04) page, so I will do my best to upload it all here**

**This story is based in my hometown as well ;D**

**Summary: **Sam and Dean travel to a small town in Ohio after learning about a brutal murder of a local girl. It seems like the tiny suburb holds a secret that the boys never expected to find out about.

* * *

Sam slowly drove down Canal Street and wasn't surprised to see police cars and fire trucks parked around a large square hole that had humongous piles of ash and charred debris scattered around, right where a haunted warehouse had once stood. Bits of burnt, splintered wood stuck out in a few places or laid on the ground. Ken was standing in front of the hole, holding a sobbing Margarita.

"Stop the car, Sammy," Dean ordered softly.

"Of course, Dean." Sam parallel parked in between two other vehicles just a little ways up the road.

"I'll be back." Dean got out of the car and headed directly for the Roberts.

"Mr. and Mrs. Roberts?" Dean called out to them.

The couple turned and were surprised to see him approaching them, out of uniform.

"Would you mind if I speak to you in private?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Of course, Agent Olsen, just...give us a moment," Ken replied with a shuddering breath.

"Alright. Take your time."

Dean walked across the street to allow Ken and Margarita a bit more time to grief.

Ten minutes later they joined him.

"What is it you wanted to talk to us about, Agent Olsen?"

"First off, I would like to sincerely apologize for your loss. I know the warehouse meant a great deal to you and was a cherishable symbol of this town," Dean started off, trying not to mix up his words, though they felt stuck in his throat. But he knew he had to make amends. He owed the Roberts so much. Though it probably wouldn't matter in the next 24 hours or so. But the Winchester in him told him that he had to do the right thing, no matter what.

"It is alright," Ken said, even though it really wasn't, "we can always rebuild."

"And we can always turn the warehouse into a restaurant," Margarita smiled weakly, "Ken had always said that my cooking was that good."

"Well, if...if it's what you want to do, go for it. Don't...don't let anything stop you." Dean fought to hold back tears as he extended his hand out.

Ken was confused at Dean's behavior, but he shook his hand anyways.

"Second of all," Dean added hesitantly, "I'm...not really an agent."

Ken's and Margarita's eyes widened at this, their jaws dropping.

"Then...then who _are _you?"

"My name is Dean Winchester. I came here with my younger brother to deal with some issues. That is all I can tell you."

Dean then turned and headed back to the Impala, leaving Ken and Margarita to stare after him with disbelief.

Dean got back into the passenger side, slamming the door shut. He put a hand on his face.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam asked, concerned.

"One more stop," Dean answered quietly.

"Jadell's house?"

Dean's silence was enough of a reply to him.

Sam then pulled out of the parking spot and drove off.

Ethan opened the door when he heard a knock on the door.

"Agent Meyer, Agent Olsen. What's up?" he asked upon seeing Sam and Dean. They were in uniform this time.

"Ethan, is Jadell home," Sam asked hopefully.

Ethan's face became solemn. Sam and Dean exchange worried looks.

"She is," Ethan replied softly. "But -" he hesitated to finish, looking as if he was about to cry.

"Ethan, what's wrong?"

"She's...fallen really ill all of a sudden. The doctors aren't sure what's causing the illness or even how she got it. One minute she was practicing the piano, the next she's on the floor, unconscious and really really pale."

Sam and Dean knew what was happening.

"Do you mind if we see her?"

Ethan stepped aside, a tear streaming down from his left eye. For a minute, Sam and Dean thought about not entering and just leaving, but Ethan told them that is was alright. So they did.

"She may be asleep," Ethan warned the brothers as they began to ascend the stairs.

"We'll be sure not to bother her if she is," Sam assured him, "thank you."

Ethan didn't respond. Instead, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Sam noticed that the light in Jadell's bedroom was off as he and Dean approached her door.

"Looks like she is asleep," Sam whispered, trying not to be loud as to not disturb Jadell.

"No, it's okay," a weak voice came from the room, making them jump, "please, come in."

Sam and Dean looked at each other before cautiously entering the sixteen year old's room.

A faint glow filled the room as a small lamp flicked on beside Jadell's bed. She was sitting upright in it, wearing a black night shirt with black shorts, though the thick comforter concealed the shorts. Her skin looked extremely pale in the light and her eyes had dark circles under them. Large, purplish-grey blotches covered her skin from head to toe. It was a truly gruesome sight. The brothers figured that she was gonna be the first victim of the grisly plague. Lucky her.

"Jadell? How are you feeling?" Sam mentally kicked himself for asking such a ridiculous question. Of course she was feeling extremely sick, otherwise she wouldn't be looking the way she was now.

"I've been better," Jadell smiled weakly, "I feel tired right now."

"We could leave if you wish," Dean said.

"No, no. You don't have to. I'm sure whatever I have isn't that bad. I mean, I've had a severe case of the flu and food poisoning. I'm sure this will pass over like they had."

The Winchester Brothers didn't have the heart to tell her that she would never recover from this disease. She was basically doomed from the day she was born. Fate was just evil that way.

Jadell suddenly was overcome by a round of horrible coughing. And with each expulsion, blood splattered on her bed sheets. The young girl looked at them, with wide, terrified eyes. She began to cry. Sam and Dean moved over to her quickly to get her to calm down.

"What is happening to me?" she sobbed.

"We don't know...and we wish we could do something about it," Sam answered as calmly as he could.

"We're sorry that this is happening," Dean added, rubbing Jadell's back, soothingly.

Jadell looked up at them both.

"Who are you two?"

"We're agents," Dean answered nervously.

Jadell shook her head. "Since when does the FBI send out their agents to a Podunk town like Canal Fulton to deal with a crime the local police could handle?"

The brothers shared another look, this time a busted one.

"You got us there," Dean chuckled lightly, "okay, in truth: Sam and I are brothers. We came here to investigate the haunting at the warehouse after we heard about Brittany's murder."

"You don't think it was really ghosts?" Jadell scoffed.

"We didn't have to think, we knew."

Jadell stared at them incredulously. "You're joking, right?"

"We wish we were, Jadell," Sam sighed, "but it's true. Ghosts exist. As well as other things."

"So, when I had seen my mom in the mirror...that was her ghost?"

"It might've been. It might've not been," Dean replied truthfully. "Some spirits have the ability to make the living see what they want you to see, just to scare you."

"How do you know so much about this?" Jadell began coughing again. Sam patted her back as Dean handed her the glass of water that had been sitting on her bedside table. She drank some after she finished coughing.

"It's kind of a long story," Sam said once she was okay. "But...it's sort of a family business."

"Are you like the Ghosthunters?"

"Yeah, only we hunt other things besides ghosts." Dean smiled.

"Like what?"

"Would you believe us if we told you vampires and werewolves?"

"Right now? Probably not."

"Yeah, that's what most people say." Dean laughed. That brought a tiny smile out on Jadell's face.

It quickly faded as her eyes started to glaze over. Sam and Dean got up quickly and helped her lay down.

"We should let you rest."

Jadell nodded. "I do feel...a little tired." She had difficulty keeping her eyes open.

Ethan came into the room and stopped when he saw the blood on the comforter.

"Not again." He rushed over to his sister and felt her forehead. He noted that her fever had escalated since he had checked it last, which was about an hour ago.

"We'll be going, now so we won't be in the way," Dean said.

Ethan didn't reply. He remained sitting beside his sister, holding her hand now.

Sam and Dean decided to sneak out and let themselves out.

Back in the Impala, Dean sat behind the wheel and took off his tie, throwing it in the back seat.

"I hate our job."

"I know, Dean. But think of how many lives we saved before just by doing what we hate," Sam pointed out.

"Too bad this damn town doesn't have that option." Dean started the car and drove out of the driveway. "Freakin' demons."

As they made their way towards the exit, Sam took notice of the citizens. Some of them had beginning tell-tale signs of the same illness Jadell had. Others looked worse. The plague was already starting.

"Do you think there will be any survivors?" Sam asked, knowing the true answer as he looked over at his big brother.

"When it involves demons, when is there ever survivors?" Dean replied, not looking at him. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He didn't bother wiping it away.

The sun slowly began to set on the horizon as the Impala pulled onto Highway 224, but instead of a beautiful sunset with red and orange with violet streaks, the skies over Canal Fulton were dull and grey, lifeless. Just like the tiny town would be soon enough. The Winchester Brothers were forced to put another town out of their memories as to not cause themselves anymore grief and pain. It was all part of the job that they had been cursed with ever since they were kids. And it never got easy.

_**END**_

* * *

**I would really love to know how I did 83 So anyone who has had the patience to sit and read throughout all of this, please review :D**


End file.
